Phlegm Symphony

I've spent so much time in the Testing Center this semester, I've almost gotten to the point of enjoying the distinctive sounds of the Grant: papers being rustled, cold air being circulated, the occasional stapler being pounded, and someone speaking too loudly just as a student throws open the door.

But today, the normally hushed testing hall sounded a lot like this (mild profanities excluded):

Naked Christmas

I'm going to come right out and say that this post really has nothing to do with naked Christmas. Rather the title of the post is a lazy marriage of the following two concepts:

1) I dropped the word 'naked' in my last post and left it there without explanation.

2) I can no longer resist the imminent Christmas spirit. It is October 10th.

Let me first begin by explaining why one should never, ever, ever mess with me when I'm naked. Some weeks ago, I was taking a quick shower before running to class. At this same time, and without my knowledge, Pervy Realtor was showing Unsuspecting Couple around the unit in another desperate attempt to sell. (Now, according to state ordinance, our management company is required to notify us before showing the unit. They do not make a habit of doing this.) I finished my shower and as soon as I shut off the water, I could hear the Realtor and guests walking around. It was obvious that they had been poking around for a while, and it must have been obvious to them that I had just turned off the shower. I was the only person home and the front door had been locked, so I did not lock the bathroom door before beginning my shower. I assumed it must be obvious to Pervy Realtor & Co. that the only occupied room in the hall must be the one with the shower in it (bonus points for the light being on and the shower having been on a mere 15 seconds earlier). But alas, I had just begun the toweling process when the whole company threw open the door. And there I was -in all my naked grandeur. I didn't say anything, nor did they. I only gave them the angriest eyebrows I could muster as they retreated. I should clarify by saying that I don't necessarily have a problem with nakedness. I happen to hate clothing more than I dislike being naked. But if you're not invited to this party, I will hate you forever for crashing -even if you are an Unsuspecting Couple and especially if you are a Pervy Realtor.
They did not buy. He did not close. Management has hired a notification service.

Merry October Christmas.

Matters of Primary Importance

Remember that one time I didn't post for almost five months? Yeah, sorry about that. In fact, I believe I've broken the first and [arguably] only rule of blogging:

Put words on this page.

In distantly related news, I've decided that if there were a book about how to interact with me, rule number one would surely be:

Don't mess with me when I'm naked.

More on that at a later time.

I have no explanation for what motivated me to throw back the covers, flick on the bedside lamp and start writing this post after such a hiatus or even what induced the hiatus in the first place. These past months have been strange. Have you ever felt like every day is exactly the same, only to realize in retrospect how much has happened and how radically things have changed in such a short period of time?

So, here follows a brief summary of most notable recent events:

• I had a twenty-first birthday. Every year since my thirteenth birthday, I can remember being asked if I felt any different now that I was a year older. Every year, since turning thirteen, I've felt just the same. This year, no one asked me if I felt any different. And this year, for the first time, I did. 
• I pulled straight A's in my pre-nursing classes and enjoyed them thoroughly -more than any classes I've ever taken, with a few choice psych dept. exceptions. I decided that I didn't want to be a nurse.
• I've killed more large spiders while living in this apartment than I have during the past twenty years of my life combined.
• I made a really big decision about where I want to be in ten years and what I want to be doing with the next ten years of my life. I don't think anyone has ever asked me what I "want to be when [I] grow up". And it took me a few years and a lot of serious thought (and a dash of panic here and a pinch of desperation there...) to finally arrive here. But with all honesty, now that I've made this decision, I can't see myself anywhere else. You know that feeling you get when you're training for a marathon or a half? Whenever you're not running, all your body wants to do is run. It's the same when you're dancing  fifteen+ hours a week. Every second you don't spend dancing, your body craves the space around you. That's the closest thing I can equate this feeling to. I've never felt this way about school or a career before, but whenever I'm awake (and sometimes when I'm asleep) every part of me needs it. I can almost feel it physically propelling me forward, pulling me outside of myself. It's simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. I love it. 
• I listened to the Garden State soundtrack about fifty-three bajillion times.

Until soon,

They Call It Xanadu...

I wake up every morning with a song in my head. It's as though my eyes flick open and someone presses the play button as the bluish morning light floods in. This first song usually sets the theme for the music I'll be listening to for the rest of the day.
For no less than 10 days in a row, beginning in mid-February, I woke up to this:

Uh-huh.
It should probably be pointed out that my 'alarm' is my cell phone set to vibrate, so it's not as if the tone of it is stimulating some kind of reflexive synaptic response in the form of musical memory. I have no idea where Xanadu comes from.

After the 'Xanadu Spell', the next several days looked like this:

(Dramatic intro and all:)

Side note: I sense an unfortunate lack of Loverboy in the world today. With a classy album cover like this, how were they ever forgotten?

Flawless. And buttery smooth.

This song feels like skipping through fields of daisies.

And then this morning:

Which is funny, since I'm not in love. I guess I'm just really feeling Van Halen. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Van Halen for their numerous contributions to my collection of power ballad love songs.
Thank you, Van Halen.

I don't really expect you to listen to all of them. It's alright. But doing so might help you more-fully comprehend the utter unpredictability of this phenomenon -and why I burst out laughing one morning when this sprang to life between my ears:

I apologize in advance for the Xanadu Spell you are likely to experience over the next week and a half. All I can say is: enjoy.